


Apalachicola

by AvarieNiceDay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Case Fic, Christmas, Christmas fic, Gen, Mentions of Dean/Cas - Freeform, Mentions of Harry Potter, Mentions of Sam/Eileen, it's about the brothers, nerds, not the main focus of the fic though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 13:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18389471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvarieNiceDay/pseuds/AvarieNiceDay
Summary: Jack finds a strange case in Florida that catches Sam's attention immediately: a women, found dead in the forest, presumably by an unidentifiable poison. The clearing she was discovered in was reduced to nothing but rotting wood and dead vegetation- all signs that could, possibly, point to a basilisk; an ancient creature that nobody has supposedly seen since biblical times. Christmas is drawing near however and Dean isn't keen on leaving the bunker for it this year, he wants to stay put and enjoy the holiday for once. Sam's enthusiasm is hard to deny though, and they find themselves heading to a swampy town settled smack in the middle of a sprawling forest. Leaning about the victims and those close to them brings to light some difficult emotions for Sam and Dean as they try to figure out what exactly is killing women in Wilma, Florida.They both just really want to go home and spend Christmas with the people- or person- they love.





	Apalachicola

**Author's Note:**

> Hello- this is my first time posting a fic! Just a- somewhat- short brother fic about Sam and Dean working a case in Florida. There are pretty heavy mentions of Sam/Eileen and Dean/Cas as this is something that is kinda central to the case itself (at least in the character mirroring). The fic is centered around Sam and Dean though, mostly just them working together and being typical brothers. It was really fun to write actually, so I hope you all enjoy it! :) 
> 
> If you leave feedback that would be awesome, I'd love to know what people think!

“Sam, have you ever hunted a basilisk?” 

The peaceful quiet that had fallen over the library was broken as Jack looked up from the ipad settled in his lap. The light from the device was nearly luminescent in the dim room, casting his face into a prism of shadows. 

“Uh, basilisk? Like from Harry Potter?” Dean interjected, forcing a deliberate emphasis on the last two words. 

Sam straightened over the book he was reading and rolled his stiff shoulders. He glanced from his brother facing him across the table to Jack, who had his knees curled under him, tucked into an armchair in the corner.

“I’ve run across some men of letters records cataloguing information about them.” 

“Yeah I’m sure you stumbled into those by accident.” Dean scoffed, fixing his brother with a teasing smirk. Sam ignored his ribbing, frowning as he began reciting what he had learned about the creatures.

“They claim that no one has seen a basilisk since… well, biblical times. They’re referenced in Isaiah and Psalm and several british writers and poets have cited them in their works; Shakespeare in Richard III and Browning in one of her works, but they’ve pretty much dissolved from modern references.” 

“Alright, nerd.” Dean turned in his chair to address Jack, who was seated behind him. “What are you asking about basilisks for anyways, kid?” 

Jack stared down at the screen balancing on his knees, scrolling silently for a minute. “I think… I think there’s one in Florida.” 

“Basilisks do not exist.” Dean insisted in a clipped tone. Sam’s look of intrigue faltered slightly. “This isn’t Hogwarts, guys.” 

“There was an article that caught my eye…” Jack continued, eyes still cast downward on the tablet. “A woman from Wilma, Florida was found near a campsite in the Apalachicola National Forest.” His words came slow, face drawn in concentration as he continued to pour over the article. “Lying on her back in the middle of a section of forest that was completely rotted away. They called a botanist in to figure out what caused the plants in the area to die, and her tests were inconclusive. The medical examiner who did the autopsy of the woman said she had died almost instantly from what seemed to be a potent poison,” Jack paused to glance between his audience of two. “But she wasn’t able to find any in her system.” 

“A basilisk, huh?” Sam turned to his brother. His face did him no favors in hiding his childlike enthusiasm. 

“A giant friggin’ snake, Sam? You really wanna try and gank a giant snake four days before Christmas?” 

“Just consider it my Christmas present.” 

Dean drummed his fingers against the table as he thought for a long moment. “I’ll have to return that bulk order of pocket protectors I bought for you, then.” 

Sam’s face broke out into a bright and excited smile. “I’ll go pack a bag!” He pushed his chair away from the table and strode quickly down the hall to his room. 

“Should I come, too?” Jack questioned, though he made no immediate move to action.

“Nah, you can sit this one out. Like I said, Christmas is in a few days. Just take a break and relax until we get back. I’ll try to get Sam moving as quick as possible through this one and we’ll probably make it back by Thursday. You and Cas can handle the grocery shopping for the party?” 

Jack nodded his affirmation and went back to scrolling lazily through his ipad. “We’ll take care of it.” 

“Alright, we’ll see you guys when we get back. I’ll check in when we make it down there and let you know if we’re going to be late getting back.” 

“You should pack hiking boots,” Jack sidetracked, as if the idea just occurred to him. “The Apalachicola is swampy.” 

Dean flashed him a thumbs up as he retreated from the library. He thought absently that a change of scenery would be nice, for a few days at least. He didn’t necessarily mind the snow, but this year it had began early and they were barely halfway through the season- at this rate, they would be looking at least five solid months of snow and cold. Florida was a hell hole but at least it was warm. 

In less than thirty minutes the brothers were rolling out of the bunker’s garage.

“So what exactly do you know about these things?” Dean postulated, glancing quickly over his left shoulder as he accelerated and merged the impala smoothly onto the highway.

“Well, not much.” Sam admitted, shuffling through a stack of loose papers and books he was balancing on his knees. “Like I said, No one has seen one since the first century.”

“Are you sure that’s what it even is, then? Where would it have come from?”

Sam shrugged. “Dunno. But I read over the article Jack saw, and everything seems to match up pretty well with the lore I’ve found.” He reached down and picked up his tablet from the floor of the car, opening the article Jack had found and skimming through, reading aloud the highlights. 

“George Kinley and Adrienne Shore went camping over the weekend, Adrienne left their campsite to look for some kindling and was found two hours later, smack in the middle of the dead area of forest.”

“Basilisks kill you when you look at their eyes, right?” Dean kept his resolutely on the road as he offered this bit of knowledge.

“Someone has seen Chamber of Secrets.” Sam joked softly and Dean grunted non-committely. “But, yeah. Essentially; they are supposed to be so venomous they can kill instantly just by looking at you, as long as you look them in the eyes. According to some folklore, “if a man on a horse were to slay a basilisk with a spear, the venom from the snake would travel up the spear and kill him in return.” So, the unidentified poison in the woman’s system and the dead plants adds up.”

“And we’re supposed to kill it how, exactly? A giant, fang-toothed snake that we’re not allowed to look at? And last time I checked we were fresh out of phoenixes and magic swords.”

Sam had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing outright. “Okay first of all; you are never allowed to make fun of me about Harry Potter again. Second; they’re not really that big. At least, according to the actual lore they’re not. They’re normal sized for a larger breed of snake. More or less.”

“Well, that makes this marginally easier. What’s the lore say on how to kill it?” 

“That I’m not entirely clear on.” Sam confessed and bent down to pick up his ipad off the floor of the car. “I was thinking about giving Eileen a call about it, actually. She’s been conducting a lot of research on obscure lore lately and she might have some more insight on it.” 

“Why is it,” Dean started as he eased the car around a sharp turn. “You always go for the smart ones, Sammy?”

Sam scoffed quietly but ignored the comment, setting his ipad case up to prop the device on the pile of books in his lap. The distinct facetime dial tone filled the car for a moment before Eileen’s face appeared on the screen. Sam waved hello and she returned the gesture. 

“Hi, Eileen!” Dean called, leaning over in his seat while trying to keep the car moving in a straight line. 

Sam pushed him by the shoulder until he was upright again. “Dean says hi.” 

“Hi, Dean.” Eileen responded, smiling kindly through the gritty, pixelated image. 

“So, we are on our way to Wilma, Florida in search of a potential basilisk.” Sam spoke somewhat slower than usual so Eileen could read his lips easier. He had started learning basic sign language a while ago, but he still wasn’t comfortable enough trying to have an actual conversation with it. 

“A basilisk?” Eileen repeated, making the sign for snake as if to clarify, thinking she must have misunderstood him.

“Uh, yeah. A basilisk.”

“Wow… I thought they went extinct in the first century.” 

“Yeah, so did I. We caught wind of a case today though that seems to fit all of the lore surrounding them pretty well. Basically, we were just wondering if you had any information on how to kill one.” 

“I’ve read about two different theories,” Eileen started, looking apprehensive. “The first one, you’re not going to like.”

“Oh great. Please don’t be anything fluid-y.” Dean spoke to himself.

“Pretty much… well, weasel urine.” Eileen made face like just talking about it disgusted her.

“No.” Dean shook his head resolutely. “Hell no. Next.” 

Sam shot him an irritated look, though he didn’t look too thrilled on the idea either. “Okay, what’s the other theory.”

“Mirrors. Which honestly I think makes more sense. Not just because the first option is icky. But, since a basilisk kills by looking at you, it fits that making it look at itself would kill it.”

“Yes, much better.” Dean agreed, nodding emphatically.

Sam rolled his eyes and thanked Eileen before hanging up and stowing the ipad away again. 

“The mirrors Sam. Please tell me you’re on board with the mirrors.”

“I think it’s unwise to go into the situation without a backup.” Sam replied, giving his brother his best bitch face. 

“I am not about to go collect some weasel pee to kill your nerdy fantasy hunt monster.”

Sam let out a long-suffering sigh. “Alright. I mean the mirrors do seem to make more sense, really.” 

“So we’re agreed? No rodent pee?” 

“Yes. No rodent pee.” Sam gathered the books and papers still sprawled across his lap and deposited them in the back before settling more comfortably into his seat. 

They sat in an amiable silence as the old car beat down the road, the sound of CCR filtering quietly through the stereo. The sun had nearly disappeared completely under the horizon, the moon rising slowly to take its place and softly illuminate the banks of snow surrounding the road. The further they traveled from Lebanon the more sparse it became, but melted patches still lingered in the ditch every few feet. The low light highlighted the flecks of dust floating lazily around the empty space in the car and accentuated the dark bug splatters smeared across the windshield. 

These details drew sudden attention to Sam of the fact that Dean had not been taking as obsessive care of his baby as of late. He never let it get overly dirty or ignored its more basic needs- he could still often be found in the bunker garage under the black hood; changing the oil or checking the engine. It was the stormy obsession that had shifted into something a little healthier. Instead of spending a few hours on a detailed clean Dean could be found in the kitchen with Jack, showing him how to boil pasta or in his den with Castiel, educating him on his favorite movies. The latter might beg a different discussion, but it was still worth noting that Dean appeared to have settled into the comfort offered by his new found family that religiously caring for his car used to bring him. It was a kind of wholeness that pieced together his soul in a way that it wasn’t before. 

“Hey, so,” Dean began suddenly, voice soft as if he didn’t want to break the quiet atmosphere, “I know you’re not the biggest fan of Christmas, but I was talking to mom the other day and she thought we should do something to celebrate. It is Jack’s first Christmas and all, and I’ve talked to some of the others… Jody and Donna, Cas, Charlie… and they’re all in. You know, as long as we’re all accounted for and not still out on business of course.” 

“Oh,” Sam started, mild surprise coloring his features. “Yeah of course that’s- that’s fine.” Sam thought for a moment, remembering the last time they had really even acknowledged the holiday. The year Dean made his demon deal. The year he died- the first time, anyway. “I think it would be really… nice.” 

“Yeah?” Dean cast a sidelong glance at his brother and flashed him a small smile.

“Yeah.” Sam repeated, returning the gesture warmly.

“Alright, then let’s try to wrap up this quintessentially nerdy side-quest nice and quick. I told Cas we could watch It’s a Wonderful Life. Thought he should finally know what inspired Meg’s pet-name for him.” 

Sam chuckled softly and nodded in assent. A calm silence fell over them again that dominated most of the drive. Google maps had informed them the drive to Wilma was over nineteen hours but with Dean’s driving they made it in about thirteen, which put them pulling into a motel just after midnight. It was an unimpressive joint, as usual, and donned puke green painted walls that were chipping away in random places. Their room had two single beds that looked barely big enough to hold them donned in yellowing threadbare sheets. There was a beat-up door leading to a grimy bathroom to the left and a small kitchenette complete with lime-crusted sink and a coffee pot that at least looked half-way clean. 

They were too tired to do anything more than collapse into their doll-sized beds, fully clothed, and immediately pass out. 

Their much-needed sleep was interrupted only a few hours later by, of all things, a rooster crowing outside their window.

“What the hell?” Dean grumbled, peeking out of the greying curtains and squinting irritatedly in the bright morning light. 

“Sounds like a rooster. I didn’t see any farms this close to town on our way in.” Sam shuffled sleepily to the window, hair sticking in every direction, and peered out beside his brother. “It was dark, though.” 

“Whatever.” Dean gave the empty parking lot beyond their window a final glare before letting the curtain fall closed again. “I call shower first.” 

“Don’t use all the hot water!” Sam warned, taking slow and lethargic steps to the black coffee pot in the kitchenette.

After they had both cleaned up, donned their FBI suits, and chugged through two pots of coffee, Sam stood by the door, ipad in hand as his eyes scrolled through information.

“We should talk to the local police first. See if they can give us any details that weren’t listed in the news. After that we can interview George- the guy who found Adrienne’s body. It says here he works at the auto shop in town, so I say we start there.”

“Food first.” Dean demanded. “I haven’t eaten since before we left yesterday. I’m not gonna be on my a-game if I don’t get some pancakes in me, pronto.” 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wilma was a small, sleepy town located just off the highway that cut through the Apalachicola. Heavy forest and murky swamp literally surrounded the entirety of its ten mile diameter. The motel they were staying at was near the edge of town and it was a short five minute drive to the downtown area, which consisted of a single road aptly named ‘Main Street’. They passed a small coffee shop, laundromat, and a few mom and pop stores, a historic one screen movie theater, and dingy gas station before coming across a modest diner nestled between a bank and a building that appeared to serve as the town hall. A small sign in the window boasted a breakfast special- a free slice of pie with every entree. 

The inside was cramped, red and white tiled floors matching narrow booths lined against the walls. Six red stools stood firmly in front of a counter displaying about thirty different kinds of pies. Festive decor had been injected among the normal diner scene; garlands and lights hung along the ceiling, a sad Christmas tree shoved into a cramped corner, and all of the waitresses donned either elf ears or santa hats. None of them looked thrilled about it. 

Mini jukeboxes adorned each rectangular table, dime slots perched on their heads as if begging to be played. Dean obliged theirs after they were sat in the back left corner, weaving precariously around the other patrons scattered throughout. The sound of a dime clunking into their diminutive machine was swallowed up by the general restaurant background noise; silverware clinking against plates, waitresses bellowing orders through the kitchen window, the metallic schwing of an old cash register drawer flying open. 

A neon tube ran over the jukebox’s curved surface and began glowing with pink and purple lights as it was brought to life. Dean squinted and leaned closer to the screen, trying to decipher the tinyily printed song titles and artists. Sam watched him with interest from across the formica table. 

“Do you need glasses, Dean?” The question slipped out unwillingly, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Dean paused, glancing at him from under his lashes in his bent over position above the music player before continuing to scroll again. “Probably.” 

“You should really go to an eye doctor.” Sam’s voice adopted a worried tone as he pushed a stray strand of his hair out of his face. Poor vision was not something that a hunter should suffer through. Any sort of physical impairment was nothing but a liability in this business, and the thought of some monster getting the best of his brother just because his vision was a little blurry didn’t set well with Sam. “Or ask Cas if he can do something about it.”

Dean stopped scrolling, pointer finger wavering above the play button for a moment before pressing it resolutely. “Cas can barely heal basic scratches and bruises anymore. You saw him after that rugaru hunt last month, he had a black for nearly a week. I think fixing an astigmatism may be off the table.” 

Sam frowned deeply. The soft guitar intro to (Don’t Fear) The Reaper tapped through the tiny speaker at his elbow. Dean flipped open his plastic menu, holding it just a bit closer to his face than should be necessary. 

“Are we getting old?” 

Dean snapped his attention up to Sam. Held his gaze for just a moment before a snarky smile broke across his face. “Only physically, Sammy.” 

Sam let out a boisterous laugh, head tipping back against the thick plastic covering of his booth. 

Soon after their waitress came by to take their orders. Sam ate an egg white omelet and Dean shoveled a foot-high stack of pancakes into his mouth, followed by a slice of (it’s free pie, Sammy, free pie) cherry pie. The brothers bickered over Dean’s personal version of the food pyramid and what music they should listen to on the ride home (if I have to listen to one more Motorhead song Dean, I swear to god) Dean’s table manners, the length of Sam’s hair, and the appropriate amount of time that should pass before washing your underwear (I’ve told you before Sam, if you flip ‘em inside out it’s like a new pair). 

After cleaning his plate(s), Dean pulled out his wallet and threw a few twentys on the table. As of late he had dramatically switched gears from shamelessly attempting to hook up with every waitress to grossly over-tipping them. Sam wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to think about that, but their brief discussion about Dean needing glasses seemed relevant to the subject somehow. 

Dean motioned that he was going to go to the bathroom before they left and handed Sam the keys so he could wait in the car. His ipad began ding-ing with an incoming call as he slid into the car and he gathered it from the floor at his feet. It was Eileen again, and their conversation lasted just as long as it took for Dean to make it back. The driver’s door squeaked sadly at him as he opened it and he made a mental note to give his baby a little love after they got home. 

“Okay, thanks Eileen. I’ll see you soon.” Sam ended the call and folded the ipad back into its case. Dean looked curiously at his brother as he slotted the keys into the ignition.

“Um,” Sam fidgeted nervously against his seat. “That was Eileen. She was calling to see if I had some first hand information on shtriga mating rituals.”

Dean pulled a disgusted face and visibly shuddered. “I wish you could have said no.”

Sam let out a choked laugh. “Yeah, me too. Anyway I, uh, asked her if she wanted to come over for the,” he waved his hand through the air in a vague gesture, continuing when Dean only looked confused, “The Christmas thing.” 

“Oh,” Dean looked acutely surprised, though it dissolved quickly into a playful smirk. “I thought you didn’t like Christmas?” 

“I’m willing to give the whole ‘Christmas Spirit’ thing another shot.” Sam replied stiffly, lips pursed.

“Yeah, for Eileen.” Dean teased but made no further comment as they peeled out of the diner parking lot. 

The police station was just a few streets over; a short, five minute drive from the diner. 

“We could’ve walked here.” Sam commented as they stepped out of the car. 

“No way.” Dean placed a hand on his bloated stomach. “Too many pancakes.” 

The police didn’t have any information that they hadn’t already learned from the news article Jack had found. Adrienne was found in the woods where she had been camping with a friend and she had been poisoned by an as-of-yet unidentified substance. They left them their business cards anyways and instructions to call them if anything strange happened before heading off to talk to George. 

The auto shop, Howe’s Garage, that George reportedly worked at, was located a few blocks east of the main street- right on the edge of town. It was situated between a large marshy field filled with overgrown cottontails on one side and a seemingly abandoned building on the other. The parking lot of the shop was all cracked cement; weeds and grass pulling through at every oportune spot. The impala hit a nasty pothole as they were pulling into a parking space, sending the brothers careening forward. Sam tensed up, throwing his hands forward to narrowly miss slamming his forehead against the windshield. 

“Dammit,” Dean cursed, easing the car forward slowly, inching out of the deep hole, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Sam replied, running a hand through his hair quickly to fix it. Dean shifted into park gingerly and threw him a glare.

“I was talking to baby.”

Sam rolled his eyes and threw his door open with a bit more force than necessary. “Of course. My bad.” 

The made their way across the parking lot, careful to watch their footing on the uneven concrete. As they pushed open the front door a bell tinged, alerting the staff to their presence. 

A young looking girl with white-blond hair and blood red lipstick greeted them with a cheery smile. “Hi, there!” She chirped, bouncing out from behind the small counter she was situated at. She was wearing a simple work uniform that consisted of a white vest situated pristinely over a black shirt, name tag pinned over her chest that read ‘Hi! I’m Cindy!’. 

“Hello… Cindy.” Sam greeted, flashing her a smile. “We were wondering if George was in?” 

“Oh,” Cindy’s smile never faltered and Sam vaguely wondered if her face was beginning to hurt. “Yeah, he’s in the garage. Do you need him to look at your car?” She leaned slightly to the left to see into the parking lot through the glass doors behind them, getting a glimpse at the black impala solitarily parked in the corner. She let out a low whistle. “I’m sure he’d be willing to take a break from the junker he’s working on now,” she leaned in and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “We don’t get a lot of classics here.” 

“Uh… no.” Dean replied firmly, looking slightly mortified at the thought of someone else digging under the hood of his car. “She- she’s good.”

Sam stepped in before his brother could work himself into a tantrum. “We’re FBI; we’re here to talk with George about what happened to Adrienne.” 

“Oh!” The girls brown eyes went wide when they pulled out their badges. “Yeah, I’ll- I’ll go get him.”

She scurried through the back door, leaving Sam and Dean to wait in the small lobby. Dean kept casting anxious glances to his car sitting stoically in the parking lot. Sam gave him an exasperated look.

“They’re not going to ransack your car, Dean.”

“I know that.” He replied sharply, tugging nervously on the sleeve of his suit jacket as he threw one final glance out the glass door.

Cindy re-appeared then with a tired-looking man trailing behind her. Dark smears of grease stained his clothes and most of his exposed skin, some even matted stubbornly in his messy brown hair. He ran a dirty hand through it, which only served to exacerbate the problem.

“Hello.” he greeted them quietly, wiping his hands as best he could on his denim jeans before offering the pair of them a quick handshake. 

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Kinley.” Sam returned, giving him a tight smile. “We’d like to ask you some questions about what happened the other day, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah,” George averted his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, I figured. Go ahead, then.” He gestured for them to move to the small seating area in the corner. Four folding chairs were pressed closely together against a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the desolate parking lot. 

“Can you tell us more about what happened that night?” Dean started as they situated themselves.

“Uh-” George stuttered for moment, trying to decide how to begin, “It was around five; I was complaining about how we weren’t going to have enough wood to keep a fire going for roasting hot dogs. Adrienne said she’d go find some- just like that.” George turned a sad expression upon Dean. “She was always like that; always willing to do anything for me. I told her I’d go, but she said to start getting the food ready, that she’d be back before I knew it.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes tight. “And I did. And after a half an hour passed, I didn’t think too much of it. After another half hour, I started getting anxious, left the campsite to look for her. I don’t know how long I stumbled around in the woods searching for her; it was so dark by then. I know it was long enough that the thought of finding her alive started fading…” George trailed off, staring blankly at the wall behind Dean’s head. 

“I eventually found her, dead,” His voice broke over the word and his eyes filled with unshed tears, “in that rotted field. Her eyes were open. Staring straight up at me, and I-” George shook his head before placing it forlornly in his hands, “it took me a while before I could even call the cops; I was so lost in the woods and I had left my phone in my tent.”

Sam and Dean shared a quick look, communicating nonverbally, and let a throbbing beat of silence pass. 

“What exactly was your relationship with Adrienne.” Sam asked softly as George lifted his head, wiping at his eyes discreetly.

“Uh, f-friends. We were just friends.” He replied, eyes staring blankly out the window. 

Sam and Dean stayed quiet, giving him the opportunity to keep talking. He continued after just a few moments collecting his thoughts. “We met up at that campsite- Green Shed, it’s called. I used to camp up there all the time with my dad. After he passed I still went, tried to carry on the tradition.” He let his gaze slide back across the brothers sitting opposite him, slightly more focused than before. “Not many people camp up there, ‘cause of the local legends passed around in town. So, I had thought I was alone that night when- when we met.” He dipped his head and a fond smile passed over his face. 

“I thought she was some kind of monster; I heard footsteps outside my tent and heavy breathing and it had to have been well past midnight. I grabbed the biggest hunting knife I had and jumped out of my tent practically screaming- thought if it was something nasty the element of surprise would play in my favor.” He lifted his head and let out a small chuckle. “Didn’t even startle her. She looked me dead in the eye, completely straight-faced, and said ‘I’m a third degree brown belt in karate’ all serious and frowning. I told her she was the one who had scared the living shit out of me, that I had almost stabbed her in the chest, and she just smiled at me. She came with me every year after that. Said that I was too jumpy to be staying up there by myself.” 

Dean let a small smile pass over his face. “Sounds like a good friend.” George nodded slowly, eyes fixed on his grease-stained hands laying in his lap.

“You said something about local legends?” Sam interjected after they had let the silence settle for a few moments. 

“Oh, yeah,” George sat up straighter and waved a dismissive hand. “It’s really the stupidest thing, but you know how small towns can be; group polarization and all that. It’s been passed around here from generation to generation that some kind of monster lives in the woods up near Green Shed. Some kind of snake thing, I think? Legend goes that a small family of witches used to live up there and they controlled it, but after the townspeople became aware of their pet beast they warded it off by keeping chickens as domestic pets.” George scoffed, obviously experiencing second hand embarrassment just by retelling the story. “That’s why people still keep chickens around town. Honestly though, it’s just a legend. Like I said, I’ve been camping up there my whole life and I’ve never seen anything scarier than Adrienne. Given, she could be quite scary if the mood struck her.” 

“What do you think happened to Adrienne, then? I mean, the circumstances of her death were rather… odd.” Sam questioned, leaning onto his elbows as he watched the brown-haired man carefully.

“I don’t know.” George replied simply. “The medical examiner said she could have stumbled into some kind of poisonous plant but… to be killed so quickly, and for the poison to be untraceable? I mean, it could just be one of those unexplainable things. No one was there, no one knows what could have happened. It could be a simple explanation with complicated results.” George shrugged, looking helpless. “I just don’t know.” 

“Alright. Well, thank you for your time, George.” Sam stood up and offered out his hand again and Dean followed his lead. “If you think of anything else that may be important, please let us know.” He slipped him a business card and they said their goodbyes before heading back out to the parking lot.

“I think it’s safe to assume that George is clean.” Dean declared as they pulled onto the road running past the auto shop that converged with the main street. 

“Yeah,” Sam sighed, brows knitting together in thought. “What he said about the local legend, that definitely lines up with basilisk lore, but I’ve never heard anything about witches associated with them.”

“Of course witches would be involved. The only thing that could possibly make witches and all of their bodily fluids worse would be snakes.” Dean shivered visibly, shaking his head. 

“I think we should talk to Adrienne’s parents next.” Sam proclaimed. “See if we can learn any new information off of them. If a witch is involved maybe she made enemies with one and it’s a simple case of payback.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Shore’s home was on the opposite side of town, further into the country and nestled on a large acreage. Dean parked the impala in front of a spacious detached garage and they climbed out. 

A small garden sat to the east of the house- from the long gravel driveway they could make out a figure stooped over an onion plant. As they drew closer to the figure, it straightened and turned to them. It was a woman in her early fifties, a flowery gardening apron wrapped tightly across her thin frame, curly brown hair pulled into a low ponytail at the nape of her sweaty neck, and an aged face that appeared drawn and perpetually sad. The picture of a mother who had lost her child. 

“Can I help you?” She called from beside her onion plant, looking wary.

“Hello,” Sam called, giving her a short wave and stopping just within normal talking level distance. “Are you Mrs. Shore?”

“Tara.” She supplied, tone clipped and apprehensive.

“I’m agent Collins and this is my partner agent Matthews. We’d like to ask you some questions about your daughter, if you wouldn’t mind?” 

The woman’s body visibly slumped, loosening her tense stance and replacing it with weariness. “Okay, yeah. Let me put my things in the shed and I’ll meet you on the side porch.” She kneeled down and began placing tools into a large metal bucket with a lily painted brightly on the side. Sam and Dean turned away, back towards the house.

“It’s pretty scenic out here.” Dean commented absently, eyes turned toward the stretch of empty field behind the house as they rounded the corner to wait on the large wrap-around porch. 

Sam stared at the side of his face for a moment, expression contemplative. Dean turned and caught him before he could school his features.

“I just meant… it’d be nice to live somewhere above ground, you know? I love the bunker for obvious security reasons but you have to admit it doesn’t have the most ‘homey’ feel to it… and, I mean you just can’t beat a view, right?”

Sam turned to stare out over the yard as well, scanning the depth of the bright green land that dissolved into a thick plume of trees about a hundred yards back. He imagined the sunsets here were something to see. The air was crisp and earthy and they were far enough from civilization that it was literally silent save for the chirping of birds and the chittering of squirrels. He had to admit, it was nice.

“Yeah no, I understand. It’s very… peaceful here. And the bunker is peaceful in a different way. Like you said- because of the warding and protection it provides, more of a peace of mind really. Everything is concrete and hard there, cold even in the summer. This is warm and earthy, more alive.” 

“Okay, Whitman. I just meant it was nice; you don’t have to wax poetic on it.” Dean scoffed and jabbed him hard in the ribs with his elbow. 

“Dean, it’s fine if something like this appeals to you.” Sam started, rubbing at his side and steamrolling through the thick expression his brother was fixing him with. He knew he didn’t like to talk about things like this but really, he had brought it up. “Seriously, I know you’ve talked about quitting hunting one day, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I mean, I don’t want to be doing exactly what we have been for the rest of my life either. It’s exhausting and bloody, and- and I think I’m becoming more selfish in my old age.” 

“Will you stop talking about old age,” Dean rolled his eyes fondly. “You’re four years younger than me and I don’t appreciate the implication. But,” he hesitated for a moment, turning away to trace the treeline through the sky. “Yeah, in a perfect world I don’t think I’d be hunting forever. If I knew that everything would be taken care of… I don’t think I would hesitate much before taking off to stake my place on a beach somewhere or,” He gestured vaguely to the scenery around them, “Someplace like this. We’d come visit you, though. And keep a beer cold for you.” 

Sam made an executive decision not to comment on Dean’s pronoun misstep. “What do you think Jack would do?”

“He’d stay with you.” Dean responded confidently. When Sam questioned him with a rise of his eyebrow he shrugged. “Kid’s still young and too damn optimistic. He has a lot of good left to spread through the world yet.” 

He knew Dean was right- Jack was filled with a sense of duty that was nowhere near being fulfilled in his eyes. Sam could see them working well together in the long run; maybe returning some of the former glory to the men of letters bunker. Helping to teach a new generation, maybe conserving some hunter’s lives in the process. Sam had thought, long ago, that he wasn’t cut out for hunting, that he would leave the first chance he was awarded but now- recently he was able to see a light at the end of the tunnel that didn’t involve death or abandonment of the community. With the resources available to them at the bunker Sam could see himself becoming a teacher, more of a leader of sorts. 

“Sorry to make you wait,” Tara startled the pair out of their unusually pensive thoughts as she come up behind them. “Come inside, please.” 

Sam and Dean followed her through a sliding glass door into an airy sitting room. They settled side-by-side on a large, white leather couch and waited for her to perch on the matching chaise across from them. 

The sun was high in the clouds now, disappearing behind a stray one every now and again, casting a dim glow across the room through a large bay window. Everything was white and pristine- a stark contrast to the loamy earth outside. 

“You know, I’ve already spoken to the police.” Mrs. Shore stated, folding her hands in her lap as she fixed them with a tired stare.

“We know,” Dean began, giving her an understanding look. “And we know this seems repetitive and unnecessary, but we’re only trying to help figure out what happened to your daughter.”

Sam nodded in agreement and her face softened a bit. “I know, you’re right. It’s just…”

“It’s difficult, we know. Why don’t you just tell us a little bit about Adrienne,” Sam suggested. “We talked to George earlier today- they seemed to have a strong friendship. Is there anyone else that Adrianne was close with?”

“There… wasn’t many.” Tara confessed, smiling fondly. “Adrianne was a bit eccentric. Her and George were something else. I’ve never seen two people click quite like that. Makes you think twice about the term ‘soul mates’, you know?” 

“I thought George and Adrianne were just friends? That’s what he told us.” Dean interjected, looking confused. 

“Oh, no,” Tara waved her hand through the air. “They weren’t together. I mean, they should have been. They were both so… blind. Scared of rejection.” She stared sadly out the window for a moment. “No matter how many times I told her, ‘friends just don’t look at each other like that’, she- she always insisted she didn’t want to talk about it. She thought it was so complicated, that George only saw her as a friend. But,” Mrs. Shore turned a soft smile on them. “I’m a mother, and a woman. We just know these things. Not that they weren’t blindingly obvious about it in the first place.” 

“You-,” Sam started, haltingly. “You don’t think George would have had anything to do with your daughter’s death, do you? I mean, she hadn’t started seeing someone or anything like that? Something that would have made him jealous?” 

Mrs. Shore stared at Sam for a long moment before replying, tone resolute. “No. I’m positive he had nothing to do with it. He loved her more than anything- I know that in my heart.” 

“Okay.” Sam nodded slowly. “Is there anyone that could have wanted to hurt Adrianne? Any enemies or ex-boyfriends who might be jealous of George?” 

Mrs. Shore let out a short laugh. “Adrienne had no ex-boyfriends, and certainly no enemies. I mean, besides the regular ‘mean girls’ in high school but that was years ago. If anything, girls would be jealous of Adrienne because of George. He used to be quite the ladies man, back before he met her.” 

“Anyone in particular?” Sam questioned.

Tara shook her head and gave him an apologetic look. “No, I’m sorry. Like I said, that was before her and George met. He quit doing that kind of thing after her, and as far as I know he hasn’t had any girlfriends or trysts since.” 

Sam and Dean shared a collaborative look. So far, no one had been able to provide them with any helpful information. They were getting nowhere, fast. 

Tara Shore continued to talk about Adrienne, and Sam and Dean indulged her. She seemed lonely without her daughter; they learned that Adrienne’s father had died several years ago from cancer and they had grown immeasurably closer in his absence. They learned a lot about Adrienne from her mother; how she had a love of nature and often helped her mother in the garden, how she had never seemed to connect with her peers in school because of her fundamentally different interests from other girls her age, how she loved to sit on the back porch and watch the sunset with her dad, how she would eat popcorn with m&m’s in it on movie nights with George. She was a sweet, intelligent girl who had missed out on her shot at love and life because of a monster.

After Mrs. Shore informed them that Adrienne’s funeral would take place the day after Christmas, Sam and Dean quietly excused themselves and thanked her for her time. 

Dean sat behind the steering wheel, the large white garage blocking what little sunlight was still peering over the treeline behind it. 

Sam cleared his throat. “She seemed like a sweet girl. It- it’s too bad about her and George. The way her mother talks they acted like an old married couple.” 

“Kinda puts our conversation with him earlier in a different light.” Dean commented gruffly, gaze fixed on the steering wheel he was gripping tightly. 

“Let’s head back to the motel.” Sam could tell his brother was getting into his own head. It crossed his mind briefly, when they were talking with Mrs. Shore, that this case might hit a little closer to home for him than he’s comfortable with. Not that he would say as much, but Sam could read him pretty well. “We missed lunch, we were here so long. We can grab something on the way back and look into the history of the town. Maybe there’s some kind of pattern we could dig up.” 

Dean nodded absently and they drove back to the motel in silence, save for the burger and salad he ordered at a drive-through. Sam got pulled into research when they got back to their room, and before he knew it it was almost midnight. Dean had been pretty quiet the whole night, had turned on the TV and sat on his bed while Sam worked, though he seemed to be paying more attention to his phone. 

Sam was almost asleep when Dean turned off the TV, carefully slid out of his own bed and snuck outside to call Cas.

The next morning they were again woken up by a rooster. 

“Are these things really even scared by freakin’ chickens?” Dean glared out the window, though the rooster was nowhere to be found.

“According to some lore, yes.” Sam replied, rubbing his eyes as he sat up in his bed. “And considering Adrienne was killed pretty far outside of town… who knows?” 

“If I find that son of a bitch, I’m having chicken wings for dinner.” Dean threatened and was answered by another loud rooster caw. “It sounds like it’s right outside! Where the hell is it?”

“Just go get ready, Dean. Leave the rooster alone.” 

Dean moved reluctantly away from the window, muttering about chickens until he closed the bathroom door behind him. He re-emerged fifteen minutes later, towel wrapped around him and hair still damp.

“Hurry up and get ready.” Sam demanded, standing in the kitchen with a mug of coffee cupped in his hands. “I just got a call from the police station, there was another body found.” 

Dean dried off and pulled on his suit, Sam waiting impatiently at the door the whole time. 

“Can we at least stop to get some food on the way?” Dean asked, walking past his brother and into the parking lot. Sam sighed, but agreed as his stomach gave a loud grumble.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The second crime scene was also outside of town; in a small field due west of a greenhouse sitting on the outskirts of Wilma. Dean had shoved the last large bite of his sausage and egg sandwich in his mouth just as they pulled in-between two police cars. 

“Hol’ o’.” He held up his hand for Sam to stop, bits of egg splattering onto his face.

Sam gave him an exasperated look and wiped his face with a spare napkin from their takeout bag. 

Dean swallowed loudly and nodded. “Alright, let’s go.” 

It was still fairly early in the morning, the bright light from the sun uninhibited as it cast long shadows across the circle of dead grass surrounding the supine body of a young woman. A sharp smell permeated the air, becoming thicker the closer they came to the corpse. It wasn’t something either of them could place; not the rotten egg smell of sulfur or the sour stench of ectoplasm. This was acrid and overpowering, almost choking in the way it stung in their nose and mouths. 

Sam and Dean ducked under the yellow tape surrounding the perimeter of the dead field, flashing their fake badges at a pudgy officer standing near the girl’s blond head.

“Agents Collins and Matthews.” Dean greeted.

“Didn’t know they brought the feds in.” He replied, flipping his notebook closed as he sized the two of them up. “Gotta admit we could use the help, though.” He gestured down to the body at his feet, face drawn. “This is Hadley Thorn… seems to be almost identical to Adrienne… there’s been whispering about a serial killer.”

“Was there anyone with her?” Sam questioned as he squatted next to her torso. She was wearing a brink pink shirt, leaves and dirt stuck in her hair that was fanned around her head. There didn’t appear to be any distinguishing marks on her body, which would make sense if she was killed by basilisk venom. 

“Her uh, friend. Brad. He’s, uh…” The officer nodded across the field toward the back of the greenhouse. The distant figure of a man slumped against the glass wall could be made out. 

“I’ll go, um…” Dean motioned in the man’s direction and trudged away, leaving Sam to examine the body more and gather whatever information he could from the officer. 

Brad didn’t look great, Dean had to admit. He had slid down the side of the green-tinted glass wall, hovering just above the ground. His head was angled toward the sky, eyes pinched closed. It was obvious he had been crying; the blotchiness of his cheeks and puffy eyes giving him away.

“Hey- Brad?” Dean had approached him quietly and spoke lowly so as not to startle him.

The man opened his bloodshot eyes and gazed blearily up at him. “What?” 

“Hey, I’m uh, agent Matthews,” Dean shifted, feeling uncomfortable towering above the distraught man so he slid down the wall next to him. The cool glass seeped through his suit jacket, sending a wave of goosebumps over his skin. “I’m here with the police investigating what’s been going on. Do you think you could talk to me for a minute? About what happened?”

“I already gave my statement to the police.” He deadpanned, closing his eyes again. A solitary tear ran slowly down his face and Dean swallowed hard, focusing on the pavement. 

“Right, yeah. I just- I’m sorry about what happened, but I just want to help.” 

Brad was quiet for a long time, his breathing measured and heavy. He let himself slide completely to the ground and ran a hand through his short, black hair. “I asked her to take out the garbage. Should have just done it myself.” 

“Look man, whatever happened here, I can pretty much guarantee you it wasn’t your fault.”

Brad chuckled hollowly, his blank gaze meeting Dean’s. “Yeah, maybe. Doesn’t make me feel any better.” 

“I understand that.” 

“Hadley was so... she didn’t deserve this. Whatever happened to her.” Brad leaned his head against the glass wall again, hands threading into his hair in frustration. 

“Most people don’t.” Dean responded. “One thing I’ve learned in this job.” 

“She was just home from uni on winter break,” Brad continued, a faraway look in his eyes. “She wanted to be a doctor. Was smart enough for it, too.” 

Dean had a feeling Brad was slightly unaware of his surroundings at the moment, which was understandable. He was probably in shock. Dean moved to stand up, placing a solid hand on Brad’s shoulder to gain his attention. 

“We’ll figure out what happened to her. I promise.” He held his gaze for a moment before straightening up.

Meanwhile, Sam was cataloging as much information as possible from the crime scene and the officer that had greeted them. 

“Who is that, exactly?” He questioned, tilting his head towards the figure Dean was now standing over. 

“Bradley Glenshaw.” He replied, tugging his belt up over his pudgy stomach. “Him and Hadley were… well, they were good friends. She left for university this past August, but they used to work together here. Guess she was helping out over winter break.”

“Has anything happened between them recently? Any fights or disagreements you know about?”

The officer fixed a calculating look on Sam before nodding slightly to himself. “No. Not that I know of. Brad and Hadley were like two peas in a pod; known each other for years and everybody reckoned they’d get together one day. Then she left for school and Brad stayed behind… he’s a smart kid, gave up a scholarship to stay home and help with his family.”

“Help his family how?”

“His dad’s an alcoholic and I don’t think he could bear the thought of leaving his brother alone with him, honestly. His brother is older, but he wouldn’t be caught dead saying something’ against their dad, idolizes him, and Brad puts too much on his shoulders tryin’ to please ‘em both.”

Sam dropped his gaze to the ground for a moment, frowning. 

“But Hadley,” the officer continued, voice rising. “She was the light in his life. She started workin’ here with him after her mom passed away. She’d been devastated, was barely able to make funeral arrangements. She came to the greenhouse to consult with Brad about flowers for the funeral… he helped her lay her memory to rest. And they’ve been close since that.” 

Sam asked a few more questions that failed to shed any more light on who was behind the murders before excusing himself. 

“Anything?” Sam asked as he met Dean halfway across the field.

Dean shrugged. “Guy’s pretty broken up.” 

“Yeah, according to Clayton,” He nodded towards the officer they were talking to before, “Brad was head-over-heels for Hadley. Tore him up when she left for school and he’d been waiting for her to come back for Christmas.”

A contemplative look broke over Dean’s face. “What about her?”

“Clayton said they were never officially a couple, but they might as well have been. According to him they only had eyes for each other; they were both just too pig-headed to see it.” 

“That sounds like a pattern,” Dean proclaimed as they started making their way to the greenhouse for a quick scan of the area. “But of what, exactly?”

“They all seemed to be pretty stubborn, or blind to what was in front of them. Maybe some kind of perceived shared character flaw. Some deranged witch could see basic human stubbornness as a weakness, something to be stomped out.” 

“Nah,” Dean shook his head, “I think their personalities were way different. I mean sure, it seems like they all had a chance at something they didn’t realize, but Adrienne was a nerdy nature freak and Brad said Hadley wanted to get into medical school. And I’m willing to bet every stubborn schmuck in this town isn’t about to drop dead.” 

“Clayton did say they were both smart kids; Hadley and Brad. That Brad had given up a lot with his education to stay at home and help out his family.”

“So what, unrequited love?” Dean questioned, trying to work through the possible similarities in the two cases.

“I don’t know… Adrienne’s mom was pretty adamant it wasn’t one-sided. And people thought Brad and Hadley were a couple, or should have been.”

“Unrecognized feelings?” 

“Or missed opportunities.” 

“At love, specifically.” Sam added, pushing open the greenhouse door. 

They spent a few silent moments sweeping the area, looking for anything that could help them. 

“So if we’re thinking witch,” Dean began, prodding at a bouquet of roses on display with his Colt. “Do you think it’s someone they all know?”

Sam thought for a moment as they moved through the back office. “Probably. It feels too personal to be some random stranger.”

“Right, so someone they all know.” Dean sifted through a pile of papers sitting on a tall filing cabinet. “Someone who has a vendetta against love.”

“So, who’s the common denominator?” Sam question, standing opposite his brother. 

Dean glanced up at him and back to the papers in his hand. His eyes flashed up again quickly, focusing on a point just behind his brothers shaggy head. 

“How about,” he started, moving swiftly past Sam to remove a picture hung on the wall. He held it out for Sam to see; the photo was a snapshot of all the employees at the greenhouse, about fifteen, all smashed together to fit in frame. There, in the front middle was a familiar face, red lips stretched wide in an infinite smile. “Cindy?” 

“Should we check at Howe’s first, or try to find her address?” 

Dean stashed his gun in the back of his pants as he brushed past his brother. “Auto shop first. Call Eileen on the way, see if she’s found any more information.” 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You said that George mentioned a local legend associated with the town concerning a monster in the woods?” Eileen’s pixelated face was turned away from the screen as her attention was focused on a pile of books and a computer screen in front of her. 

“Yeah, he said that was why everyone kept chickens as pets.” Sam responded, leaning heavily against the passenger door as Dean took a sharp turn about twenty miles too fast. 

“Well, it looks like there’s some truth to it. Chickens are natural protection against basilisks. They’re supposed to be the only creature they’re afraid of.” 

Dean started to make an irritated comment about ‘stupid poultry’ but Sam shushed him before he could finish.

“There was a family of snake charmers that settled in the Apalachicola not long after Ponce de Leon began colonizing the area in the 1600’s, and their muse of choice, according to some old Men of Letters records, was the basilisk. They have been dormant for centuries, but stories about the dangerous coven with a large, predatory snake that lived outside of town endured through time.”

“That makes sense why all of the attacks have occurred pretty far outside of the center of town. There’s less chickens, less protection.”

“So you think we’re up against an entire coven?” Dean intoned, gripping the steering wheel tightly in apprehension. 

“No.” Eileen responded, the sound of rustling papers crackling through the iPad as she flipped through her research. “Though the Men of Letters never directly interfered with the coven after their initial encounter with them in the 1650’s- they made them place a stasis on their basilisk and told them they would let them live as long as they kept it in place. Apparently the Men of Letters went through a phase during this time where they were short-handed on recruits and didn’t have a lot of manpower to put into full blown annihilation of entire snake-charming witch covens, but they still had the technological know-how to bluff their way into making them believe they did. Anyways, they did still keep tabs on them and apparently a lot were rounded up and killed off during the witch trial craze only fifty years later. A few survived and generally disbanded- moving further up along the coast and staying out of trouble for the most part. Only one stayed behind in the Apalachicola area: Catalina De La Fuente.”

“Catalina? Do you think that could be Cindy?” Sam’s face was pulled tight in concentration as he listened to Eileen’s brief history lesson. Dean appeared to have tuned the entire thing out as he was concentrating heavily on the road.

“Probably. Witches in that time were well-versed in appearance modification, glamouring. And if she’s been in that area for so long, it would be necessary for her to change her face and name over the years so nobody noticed she wasn’t aging.” 

Dean didn’t bother slowing down as he turned into Howe’s bumpy parking lot, screeching to a halt in front of the entrance. 

“Alright, we just got here, Eileen. Thank you so much for your help, it’s nice not to be going in blind.”

“Of course, Sam.” Eileen smiled fondly at him and signed ‘be safe’ before disconnecting the call. 

Unfortunately, Cindy was not at the auto shop. A man named Jeff was working instead, and told them that she had worked her other job- the greenhouse outside of town- earlier and had the night off. After flashing their badges urgently at him he agreed to look up her address in the employee records. She lived just a few miles away from the shop, even deeper outside of town and bordering the very edge of the Apalachicola. 

They both got out of the car and rushed up the front steps. There was no answer when they knocked so Dean waved Sam aside and reared back before slamming his foot square in the center of the wooden door. He cursed loudly and grabbed his foot, glaring daggers at the unmoved slab of thick wood still standing mockingly in front of him. 

Sam gave him a pitying look and tried the knob. The door swung open easily and they stepped quietly, except for Dean’s slight limp, inside. 

The two split up to weave through the one-story home only to find it resolutely empty. They converged in the kitchen and shared twin looks of disappointment. 

“Where the hell is she?” Dean was twitchy, bouncing on his feet.

“I don’t know…” Sam replied, eyes darting around the tiny kitchen in search of a clue. “Look, Dean!”

Dean followed his outstretched arm to where he was pointing out the window. The backyard was cloaked in the darkness of late afternoon, but there was just enough sunlight peeking through the thick trees to illuminate the ground. More specifically, a trail of brown, dead grass cutting through the luscious greenery surrounding it. 

The brothers tore out of the back door and followed the path of dead vegetation deep into the woods. The sun was setting quickly now and the further they trekked into the thicket the harder it was to see anything around them. Silence rang in their ears, appearing to mute the sound of their footsteps cracking on thick branches. 

“Do not come any closer!” A sharp voice cut suddenly through the darkness like crackling thunder. 

Sam and Dean halted their movements and squinted past the brush ahead of them. 

“Cindy?” Sam called out, inching forward another step.

“I said don’t move!” The voice warned again loudly. “I know what you two are.” 

A sudden light appeared about fifty yards ahead of them, glowing dimly in the surrounding darkness. 

“Hunters.”

“Yes, we are.” Sam confirmed, holding his gun tightly, poised. “And we know what you’ve been doing.” 

“You don’t understand.” The light skipped twenty feet to the right and quite a few yards closer. “Those idiots deserved what they got.”

A soft noise started to rise from the silence around them. A sinister spitting and hissing that was growing steadily louder.

“You mean Adrienne and Hadley?” Dean clarified, voice steady though his eyes shifted wildly.

Harsh laughter crackled around them, echoing around the trees. “And George and Brad. They deserve the heartache they will suffer.”

“Why? What did they do to you?”

The light before them shimmered, expanding exponentially before exploding. As their vision adjusted to the new, bright light surrounding them they could see Cindy standing just a few yards in front of them, leaning against a knotted old elm tree. 

“They didn’t appreciate what they had.” She spoke lowly, her face cast in shadows despite the light surrounding them now. “They had love, all of them, and they were too stupid and insecure to do anything about it.” 

She stepped forward slowly, her motions jerky and her hands twitching in an oddly rhythmic cadence at her side. 

“So you had to kill them?” Sam shifted back a step, never relaxing his defensive pose.

“First of all,” Cindy smiled coldly at them, red lips stretching tight over her face. “I didn’t kill them. Sebastian did.” 

“Your basilisk?” 

“Not mine, per say. A family heirloom, if you will.” Her twitching hands were rising slowly, level with her hips now. She was allowing the illusion spell she had cast on her appearance to dissolve as well- her true face rippling under the pale visage and red lips she had been wearing. Her skin was darkly tanned and her hair long and black, falling thickly over her shoulders and obscuring part of her face. 

“So you sicced your pet snake on two girls whose worst offense was self-preservation?” Dean jabbed, the tenseness in his shoulders belying the confidence in his voice.

“Not a pet.” Cindy spoke tersely before smiling again. “And it is an offense. To me, personally. For someone who had the love of their life ripped away from them. For someone who was able to hold that feeling in their hands and was forced to watch it bleed.” A nasty snarl broke over her face, her voice growing louder and more hysterical. “People who don’t have the courage to chase that feeling are worthless, pathetic beings.” 

“Or, you know, just normal, self-deprecating humans.” Dean countered, tone sarcastic.

“They were pathetic,” Cindy hissed, or her words were suddenly overlayed with the sound as the hissing continued after she stopped speaking. The harsh noise was reverberating through the forest now. Sam and Dean shifted closer together, pressed side-by-side now as they scanned the surrounding area nervously. 

“When my family died centuries ago, I promised them I would stay out of trouble. I would live amongst this sleepy town quietly and take on the family practice without drawing attention to myself. And then I met Seth. And he was perfect, and we loved each other eternally. Until he stumbled upon my heirloom in the basement.”

“He found your snake.” Sam guessed.

“It wasn’t Sebastian’s fault.” Cindy’s hands were raised far above her head now, still twitching in a disturbing way. “But I must say I’ve broken my promise. I can’t stand by anymore and watch these pathetic humans blunder through lives. They don’t deserve to live if they can’t even take a chance on the one thing that would make them happier than any other. And you two are just the same.”

The wild hissing came to a crescendo as Cindy sharply lowered her arms back down to her sides and the light was extinguished suddenly. 

“Sam!” Dean yelled, turning blindly in the staggering darkness. The hissing seemed to be coming from every direction; disorienting and frightening. “We need light!”

Sam dropped his gun on the dirty ground as he searched frantically through his pockets.

“Got it!” A small crack was heard and then the area immediately surrounding them was glowing in a sickly green light.

“A glow stick, really?” Dean looked at the ground at his feet in bewilderment.

Sam shrugged, picking up his fallen gun. “It was Jack’s idea. They’re less bulky than flashlights and, obviously, helpful in a sticky situation.” 

“Do you have your mirror?” 

“Yeah, I got it.” Sam held up a standard hand-held mirror for his brother to see and Dean dug a matching one from the inside of his jacket. “Just hold it out, I guess. And try not to look at it.”

“Yeah, right. Great.” 

The hissing stopped and was replaced by the distinct sound of slithering through leaves. 

“Over there.” Dean pointed to the left where the tail of a long, grey snake was disappearing behind a fallen tree.

“No, there!” Sam pointed further to the right where the thicker middle of the snake was sliding across the ground.

“How long is this thing, Sam? You said they were normal snake size!”

“I said more or less!” 

“There!” Dean snapped his head away and held his mirror out like a shield. Sam caught the long, thick neck of the beast lurching toward his outstretched hand before it froze suddenly mid attack. It’s body went stiff in an instant, paralysis traveling along its scaly, long length as it someone had shoved a pole through its mouth. 

It dropped suddenly onto the leaves below, its dead yellow eyes staring blankly up at the sky. 

A moment of silence passed between them, save for the sound of their frightened panting. 

“One hundred points to Gryffindor.” Dean attempted to joke, but his voice was just a little too breathy and quiet to quite hit the mark. 

Sam looked at him with adrenaline widened eyes. “Actually, I’m a Ravenclaw.” 

The oppressive darkness lifted suddenly around them, giving way to the standard pre-dust glow. Sam and Dean turned to their left as they heard hard footsteps running through the brush.

“Sebastian!” Cindy dropped to her knees before the giant snake, cradling its football-sized head in her small hands. 

She held the creature against her body and sobbed quietly before turning red-rimmed eyes on them. “He was all I had left.” 

Sam and Dean dropped their defensive stances and stared blankly at the young-appearing girl. 

“He was all I had!” She screamed, and a yellow electricity began jumping and crackling over her skin.

Dean drew his gun with a snap of his wrist and shot the witch through the middle of her forehead.

“Thank god for witch-killing bullets.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The drive back to the bunker was solemn. The case had dredged up emotions that were usually stuffed so far into their minds they had taken up a quiet and domestic residence in their subconscious. The stale air filling the car was hot and suffocating, almost vibrating with the energy it took them to hold their desolate thoughts hostage in their throats. 

They were passing through Atlanta, car idling in stand still traffic, when Sam finally broke. 

“I…” Sam started, the lilt of his voice hovering just above the noise of the engine; yet it still made Dean snap to attention, almost as if he had been waiting for him to break the silence first. “I’m tired of doing all of this alone.” 

Though the statement seemed out of nowhere, Dean knew exactly what he meant.

“You have me.” He offered half-heartedly.

“Yeah,” Sam’s sad smile was briefly lit by a passing car’s headlights. “No offense, but I do have some needs that you just can’t provide for me.” 

Dean made a face. “You know what I meant. I’m- you know, always here. If you need anything.” He paused before adding, “anything brotherly.” 

Sam sighed and shifted his long limbs uncomfortably in his seat. “That’s exactly what I mean. Look, of course we’re not… typical people, but I think we’re getting a little old to still be living together with no real serious relationships outside of, of-” Sam flailed, gesturing wildly with his large hands as he tried to catch the right words. “Of this.” 

“Alright, calm down.” Dean shifted anxiously in his seat, hands tightening on the steering wheel. “I get it, Sam. I do. You and Eileen- I’m all for that. And if she wants to stay with us at the bunker or if you two want to elope and go buy a house with a white picket fence somewhere in Connecticut and start a dog breeding business, it’s fine. I really- I mean, I understand.” 

Sam relaxed back into his seat a bit, muscles losing some of their coiled tension. “I don’t want to miss out on something like this just because of the life we live. I’ve wanted something like this for a long time and Eileen… well, she gets it too, you know? She grew up in the life just as much as we did and there are no illusions there. I’m definitely not saying we’re about to elope or even move in together though. I mean, I don’t even know if she feels the same way.” 

“Seriously?” Dean turned a disbelieving look on him, eyes averted from the road. “She’s got moon eyes for you, Sammy. You’d have to be blind not to see that.”

“Oh, really?” Sam gave him a frustratingly knowing look that Dean quickly turned away from. Sam rolled his eyes. “You’re allowed to be happy too, Dean. I’m not going to pretend like I know the full story, but don’t insult my intelligence by telling me I’ve been imagining things. I don’t know if it’s just your self-deprecating nature that’s holding you back but if it is- Dean, you can’t keep living like that.”  
Dean twitched uncomfortably and was silent for several long seconds. “You know I want out of it all one day- retirement, somewhere relaxing,” His voice dropped lower, words strained as if admitting his emotions was almost physically painful for him, “of course I want what you and Eileen could have.”

“Dean, just stop. You bottle all of this crap inside and it’s just going to explode at the worst possible time. Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve made it this long.” Sam ran a frustrated hand through his hair; the set of his brother’s jaw may as well have been an actual brick wall separating himself from his emotions. “If there’s a single thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that you can’t let things you care about keep slipping past you. Especially in our lives, where we’re in danger literally all of the time. Just let it go, man.”

“I don’t know what else you want from me.” Dean spoke shortly, voice laced with misplaced irritation. “I admitted I want out, that I want a real, somewhat normal life with someone.” 

“Just some nameless person?” Sam prodded, feeling that he was poking at something he probably shouldn’t, but unable to stop all the same. 

Dean kept his eyes resolutely on the road and offered nothing but a small shrug as an answer.

Sam fumed silently, letting the silence drag on before posing a rather sarcastic question in a blindingly faux innocent tone. “I wonder if Cas ever feels that way too. You guys ever talk about this kind of thing?” Might as well go all out, it seemed he was never going to push his brother toward anything with subtlety. 

“I get it, Sam. That’s enough.”

“What? I’m just curious if he ever opens up to you about that kind of thing. You know, him and I just don’t have the same kind of friendship you two do.”

“Shut up, Sammy.” Even in the dark light of the car, Sam could see his brother’s face turning red. He tried not to laugh, pursing his lips tightly together and turning his attention to the rear of the SUV sitting in front of them. Traffic was still tight, but from the slight hill they were currently idling on he could see that it would break up in another mile or so. 

“Dean,” Sam paused for a long second, really considering what he was about to say. Finally, he decided that since he’d already come so far, he might as well push as hard as he could. “You’d have to be a complete idiot not to realize Cas has been in love with you for at least eight years.”

Dean slammed on the brakes a little harder than necessary- thankfully they were only going about ten miles per hour, but the sudden jolt still nearly sent Sam through the windshield.

“Jesus, Sam- just drop it, okay!? I am not talking about this.”  
Sam righted himself, turned a wide-eyed look on his brother, but kept his mouth shut. If he was this adamant about ignoring the situation then there was nothing he could do. He’d tried.

A long silence stretched between them, past the point where the traffic broke and they were steadily gaining speed along the interstate. Sam tried to distract himself by scrolling through news articles on his ipad, but his gaze kept wandering back towards his brother. He seemed to be lost in thought, a deep crease forming between his brows, and though his eyes were on the road they were glassy and didn’t seem as though he was really seeing it. Sam wanted so badly to say something more, but knew he shouldn’t given the outright hostile reaction Dean had shown thus far to him breaching the ridiculously tabooed topic. 

“Eight years?” When Dean finally spoke it was so quiet that Sam wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t already staring a hole into the side of his face.

Sam blinked a few times in surprise before composing himself. “Um- yeah. Yeah, at least that. Maybe more.” 

A thoughtful looked crossed Dean’s face before he shook his head lightly, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “So, you’re going to talk to Eileen, right? At the Christmas party?”

Sam was quiet for only a beat before answering. “Yeah, I think I will. What’s the harm, you know?”

“You got nothin’ to worry about.” Dean reassured, smiling widely at him. 

Sam wanted to ask if he was going to reciprocate by talking to Cas, but he felt he already knew the answer. Somehow, he had seemed to crack his brother’s incredibly thick skull and make him see a sliver of reason. 

Most of the rest of the drive was spent in an amiable silence, both caught up in their own pensive thoughts. As they drove steady down the road, they inched closer and closer to home, where their family would be waiting for their return, ready with hot chocolate and strong eggnog. Maybe some good whiskey, if they were lucky. 

Soon the clear skies above them clouded over and the green grass surrounding the road became heavy with snow. It looked as if the white precipitation had continued a steady downfall here for the entirety of their trip. It was fluffy and fresh, covering every surface and glittering in the early morning sunlight. It made the town look sequestered away in a snowglobe; the perfect Christmas setting. 

The boys eventually made their way home, though they were delayed slightly when they got stuck behind a snowplow on a one-lane country road just outside of town. The atmosphere at the bunker was warm and relaxing and they easily settled into the feeling of being surrounded by family. Claire and Alex had brought everyone matching ugly sweaters to wear for Christmas morning, Jody did bring a bottle of good whisky, Donna a crockpot full of chili (whose recipe she refused to release to Dean, no matter how bad he wanted it). Charlie had brought a tabletop game that was surprisingly complex, but fun, to keep them entertained. Jack and Cas had made good on their promise to do the grocery shopping, and had picked up an extra item to give the bunker a more festive appeal; a giant Christmas tree that stood at least ten feet tall in the map room and was impressively decorated. 

Dean and Sam had found the two of them circling around it when they arrived, throwing tinsel haphazardly and stringing the last of the lights from its branches. Sam didn’t think he’d ever seen something so ridiculous and heartwarming, until he later watched his brother carefully pulling red and green tinsel out of Cas’s hair with a fond little smile on his face. That was the last time Sam remembered seeing the two of them that night, and when Eileen arrived a few hours later they’d been strangely absent for a while.

Eileen was loaded down with armfuls of neatly wrapped presents and Sam helped her arrange them under the twinkling lights of the tree. When they were done they took a seat at the map table, the distant sounds of the rest of the family exchanging stories and laughter from the library floating through the room. Eileen quietly admitted that she hadn’t purchased or wrapped a present for Sam, and in the middle of his stern affirmation that this was just fine, that her being there was enough of a present for him, she kissed him. It was quick and light- just a peck, really. 

Sam’s face burned a bright red and his expression melted into a fond smile. He thought absently that he probably looked just as hopeless as his brother picking tinsel out of the angel’s hair, and quickly decided he didn’t care as he clasped Eileen’s hand and led her toward the library.

**Author's Note:**

> The End! Hope it didn't end in a weird spot- I struggle with ending things. I just want it to keep going and going so I eventually just have to say, 'enough'! 
> 
> Find me on twitter @avery_nice if anyone wants to hop over there- I'm fairly new and intimidated by it, so I'd love for someone to come say hi! :)


End file.
